


He's Been Very Kind

by aitomation



Category: Psych
Genre: Autistic Carlton Lassiter, Autistic Shawn Spencer, Children, Children of Characters, Everyone Loves Leslie, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Lassie's Good With Kids, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Presents, Sewing, Trans Male Character, Trans Shawn Spencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 22:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21168629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aitomation/pseuds/aitomation
Summary: Shawn's daughter is a unique girl, Lassiter knows. He knows she has the entire station wrapped around her little finger, himself included. He knows he'd do a lot to make her happy. And when he hears that Shawn doesn't know where to begin looking for the Halloween costume she wants, Lassiter knows he has to help.





	He's Been Very Kind

**Author's Note:**

> this fic takes place within a larger au ive created, where shawn is a trans man who had a daughter in 2004!! she tags along w him on a lot of investigations n hangs at the station a lot,,,, that fic will b posted eventually, w a lot more details, but thats rly all u need to know to understand whats going on here 
> 
> title is a reference to an early line from The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, one of my favorite books as a kid, n the inspiration for the book mentioned in this fic!!

Lassiter was just thinking that the station seemed a little too quiet when Shawn wandered through the door. Lassiter immediately looked down, expecting to see Leslie trailing after him. The last time she was there, she insisted on hopping from tile to tile like a frog, clinging to one of Shawn’s hands with both of hers and giggling every time she landed. It was adorable; Lassiter would even admit it aloud. 

Leslie wasn’t there though. Shawn wasn’t wearing her sparkly unicorn backpack, or her pineapple-shaped shoulder bag either. Lassiter frowned. Shawn was picking at his fingers; that same habit Lassiter had noticed the first time they met. He stopped to talk to Buzz, grinning his usual grin, before he wandered to the Chief’s office and disappeared inside. Lassiter wouldn’t admit that he lingered near the door, waiting for Shawn to reappear. When Shawn did slink out of the office, hands stuffed in his pockets, he immediately made his way to Lassiter’s side. 

“Hi Lassie,” he said, leaning closer than strictly necessary. 

“Spencer. No Leslie today?” Lassiter asked, trying to sound nonchalant; a tiny bit of disappointment leaking into his voice. Shawn grinned at him. 

“Nah, she’s torturing Uncle Gus with the same tape of Blue’s Clues over and over again. I’m just here to pick up our check, get it signed, the usual. Then I’m off to pretend like I have any idea where to get her Halloween costume.” Lassiter’s brow furrowed. 

“You could try a costume shop,” he said. 

“You think  _ my _ daughter wants something off the rack?” Shawn asked, raising a brow. 

“No of course not. How silly of me,” Lassiter said flatly. Shawn laughed, and Lassiter bit down on a smile. 

“She wants to be her favorite character from this book I read to her,” Shawn said with a little shrug. “She’s like, a noblewoman turned pirate captain. I’m probably gonna have to butcher a few different costumes to get what she wants.” He raised one hand to toy with the button at the collar of his polo. 

“How old is she again?” Lassiter asked, raising a brow. Shawn grinned, his eyes full of pride and mischief. 

“Three and a half.” 

“I see.” 

“She’s very demanding you know.” 

“I know,” Lassiter said, finally unable to keep his smile at bay. Shawn beamed at him. He had just opened his mouth to say something else when Juliet walked by. 

“Lassiter, do you have the suspect files for the Tanner case?” she asked, all business. 

“Hi Jules,” Shawn said, waving at her. 

“Hi Shawn.” She gave him a tiny smile. Shawn wiggled in place; Lassiter’s jaw clenched. 

“They should be on my desk. Let me look.” He pushed off the wall and walked to his desk, smoothing down his tie. He knew he’d been looking at the Tanner files that morning, but he couldn’t remember if it was before or after he got his wrap-up paperwork. Juliet started to follow, her heels clicking on the tiles. 

“Oh Jules,” Shawn called after her. Juliet stopped and turned, cocking her head curiously. Lassiter watched them out of the corner of his eye. “Did I show you Leslie’s drawing yesterday?” 

“I don’t think so,” she said, stepping closer again. Shawn made a thrilled little noise, and then started digging in his pockets. He pulled out a folded piece of printer paper and grinned. 

“I read her this book, every night before bed, and for Halloween she really wants to be the main character, Charlotte.” As he spoke, Shawn started fumbling with the paper, unfolding it clumsily while he gestured. “But she doesn’t just want to be Charlotte, no, she wants to be  _ this _ Charlotte.” He held up the paper and turned to look at it, glowing with pride. 

“Aw, she drew her?” Juliet cooed, reaching up to grab one corner of the page. Lassiter wasn’t sure why, but he lifted his phone and snapped a picture of the drawing before he could think about it (before anyone could see). Shawn beamed at Juliet, bouncing on his heels. 

“She did. I have no idea how I’m gonna make this costume for her but I’m so excited. This is her first real Halloween in Santa Barbara Jules, it’s special.” Juliet smiled; let Shawn take the paper back and watched him carefully fold it back up. “And Gus’ neighborhood is really nice, she’s gonna get all the good candy.”

“O’Hara,” Lassiter called, holding up the Tanner files he’d finally unearthed from the mountain of paperwork spread across his desk. Juliet turned to look at him, her ponytail swishing behind her. 

“I’ve gotta go Shawn. Good luck.” 

“See you Jules. Bye Lassie!” Shawn waved erratically, then practically skipped out the door. Lassiter rolled his eyes fondly, his lips twitching up. Juliet grinned as she sat at her desk and opened the files. 

Lassiter took a rare day off the very next day. Vick was always happy to approve his leave, because of how rarely he requested it. Though he didn’t have work, he still rose early, dressed, and headed out the door. 

The smell of the craft store hit Lassiter hard as he pulled open the creaky old door. Things had changed a bit since the last time he’d been there-there were new lights; the shelves had been rearranged-but the smell was exactly the same. He almost smiled as he grabbed a tiny cart and started pushing it down the aisles. The last time he’d been here hadn’t been particularly pleasant, but he had plenty of peaceful, even happy memories of the store. 

Lassiter wandered toward the patterns first. He didn’t have very many for children’s clothes; he was sure he didn’t have any for children’s costumes. He pulled out his phone and squinted at the grainy picture while he shuffled through the drawers and drawers of patterns, making a little pile of possibilities. The skirt on one pattern looked almost right; the sleeves on another were perfect, but the neckline was off; there was a pattern for a coat that he’d just have to add cuffs to… 

An employee-a woman, younger than him but not by much-strode confidently up to his side. She was smiling warmly; there was a measuring tape draped around her neck, and an apron tied around her waist. 

“Can I help you find anything sir?” she asked, folding her hands together in front of her. Lassiter glanced up, briefly, before going back to the task at hand. 

“I’m making a costume for the daughter of a friend of mine.” 

“That’s very nice of you,” the woman said, not so subtly eyeing Lassiter up and down. “We have plenty of costume patterns. Have you ever done a project like this before?”

“Not for a child,” Lassiter said, resigning himself to this interaction. He looked up from where he was sifting through his pattern pile. “I’ve modified patterns before.” 

“Not finding what you’re looking for?” 

“I’m not sure what she wants exists,” Lassiter said with a little smirk. “It’ll have to be custom.”

“Well you just let me know if you need any help finding fabric or fasteners, anything at all alright? I’m here to help.” The woman beamed at him; Lassiter shifted. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, not intending to ask for any help. He knew what he was doing. Sewing was one of his oldest hobbies-he’d learned from his grandmother. She had made all of his mother’s clothes, and she made clothes for him as presents for his birthdays and holidays. He knew how to sew buttons and zippers, edges and lace. He’d taught himself plenty about making clothes after she was admitted to the hospital, so he could make her things in return. The craft store always made him think of her; he always thought of her fondly. 

After he’d chosen his patterns, he went hunting for fabric, looking back at the picture on his phone periodically. He knew Leslie was sensitive to certain materials and textures; he knew she hated the feel of velvet and terrycloth and crepe. She liked glitter and sequins, but only if they didn’t touch her skin. She was very fond of Shawn’s worn flannel overshirts, and the soft inner material of the tiny sweatshirts he bought her. 

Lassiter figured he’d choose a white batiste for her blouse, and a linen for the lining. Her skirts and bloomers could be a cotton blend; her jacket a pleather vinyl. He’d find her some striped stockings to match, and a little bandana for her hair. He thoughtfully rubbed the end of each bolt between his fingers as he wandered down the aisle; deposited his choices in his little cart in a neat row. When he thought he was finished he went looking for trim-lace for the skirts; cording for the jacket cuffs; he got distracted looking at inserts for the cuffs of the blouse. 

Eventually Lassiter found himself surrounded by fasteners, and squinting down at the measurements on the patterns. He thought idly that he might need to get reading glasses soon. The patterns only called for one zipper and a handful of buttons to fasten the shirt and its cuffs; the buttons on the jacket were decorative. He spent maybe a little too long comparing colors and shapes, considering which ones Leslie would like best. When he was finished, and reasonably certain he had everything he needed, he headed to the cutting counter. The same employee that had talked to him by the patterns smiled at him, and he frowned slightly. 

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked, eyeing the mountain in his cart. 

“I did,” he said stiffly. He lifted the pile of bolts from his cart and laid them gently on the counter. “I need a yard each of all of these, except this one,” he lifted the pleather for the jacket, “I need one and a half.” 

“Of course,” the woman said, pulling the first bolt toward her. She moved methodically, unfolding the fabric and lining it up with the ruler built into the table before she easily slid her scissors up the length of the bolt and pulled the fabric free. Lassiter had always found the action rather soothing. 

As he watched her work, he realized why she made him uncomfortable, and he immediately felt bad; she looked a little too much like Victoria. It was the hair, and her nose, and the graceful look of her hands. Victoria had never had calluses like hers, though, and she had never smiled so earnestly. The woman cleared her throat and Lassiter realized he had been staring at her wordlessly while she held out his fabric. 

“Sorry,” he said, grabbing the pile and resting it in his cart. “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble. I hope your friend’s daughter likes her costume.” 

“So do I.” 

When Lassiter went to pay, he threw an extra seam ripper in his cart, just in case-they always seemed to go missing when he needed them. He thought about going back for more thread, but he was almost certain he had enough. The total that came up on the register made him wince, but he was too excited to dwell on it long. It had been a long time since he’d done a big project like this, and he’d forgotten how much he missed it-that it was a present for Leslie was a bonus. 

There was a light breeze when he went outside and loaded the bags into the Crown Vic. He tried to imagine what Leslie’s face would look like when she saw her costume-it would probably look a lot like Shawn’s when he did his big reveal after he solved a case. She really did look so much like him. Lassiter smiled to himself as he climbed into the car to drive home. 

It had been a long time since Lassiter had last used his sewing machine. It was tucked in the back of his closet, its bag covered in a thin layer of dust; but when he dug it out and set it up, it looked exactly as he remembered it. He ran his hands over its surface, refamiliarizing himself with all its knobs and buttons. Then he set to work laying out the fabric, pinning and tracing the patterns, cutting and pinning his pieces. 

When that was all done, he had to go back to the closet to find his thread holder and bobbin container. He color-matched the thread to the fabric; dug around for a handful of empty bobbins. Lassiter methodically wound the bobbins with the thread, gingerly depressing the foot pedal with the same deliberateness he used to drive his car, or handle his gun-this was just as important to him. He threaded the machine in much the same way; loaded the first bobbin and lowered the presser foot on the first piece of Leslie’s blouse. 

When Lassiter wandered into his kitchen for dinner, it was dark outside. He didn’t notice at first, poking through his cabinets for something he didn’t have to cook, but he saw the microwave clock out of the corner of his eye and did a double-take. Peeking behind the curtains showed him that the sun was long set. He hadn’t realized how long he had been working. He munched thoughtfully on some barely stale crackers while he thought about what else he had to do. 

He wanted to finish the costume quickly, just in case Shawn actually was going to go out and buy a bunch of off-the-rack costumes to butcher. He knew that making it would save Shawn money, and spare him a headache-he didn’t think too hard about why he wanted to help Shawn so much.

He still had to assemble the coat; attach the skirts to the bloomers; add all the trim and buttons. It wouldn’t take too long. He pushed off the counter, stretching his back as he headed back to his makeshift sewing room. 

Lassiter didn’t get any less sleep than he normally did, but he did sleep better than he had in a long time. He was excited; he practically bounced through his morning routine. Right before he headed out the door for work, he carefully folded Leslie’s costume and put it in the bag from the craft store. He half considered buckling it in when he set it in the passenger seat of his car. 

He went the entire morning without seeing Shawn, which wasn’t surprising-Shawn wasn’t exactly an early riser and everyone knew it. It still made Lassiter antsy. He wanted to give Shawn the costume as soon as possible. He focused on his work extra hard to try and distract himself from looking at the door every few minutes. 

He took his lunch break very late, and came back just as Shawn and Gus were leaving. They walked past him, Shawn waving at him as he kept talking to Gus about the merits of some movie Lassiter had never heard of. 

“Spencer,” Lassiter called, shifting his grip on his briefcase. 

“Yes Lassie doodle dandy?” Shawn cooed, fluttering his lashes. Gus scoffed and Shawn grinned at him impishly.

“I have something for you.” Lassiter gestured for Shawn to follow him. Shawn and Gus exchanged a surprised look before trailing behind Lassiter to his desk. Shawn peeked around Lassiter curiously as he reached under his desk-instead of into the drawers like Shawn expected-and produced a tied off plastic bag. It was rounded by its contents, which Shawn could see were some kind of fabric in many colors. Lassiter presented the bag to Shawn, who stared at it blankly for a moment before his brain caught up to him. 

“This is for me?” he asked, pointing to himself. 

“Sort of,” Lassiter said. He was making his nervous face; Shawn squinted at him and gingerly took the bag. He fumbled with the knot, Gus leaning over his shoulder to watch as he pulled the fabric free. The fabric turned out to be an outfit, a costume specifically-Shawn held it up and immediately recognized Leslie’s drawing come to life. 

“You made Leslie’s costume?” Shawn asked quietly, reverently. Gus’ eyebrows shot up. Lassiter’s ears turned pink. He rubbed at his neck, like he always did when he was nervous. 

“It wasn’t difficult,” he said quickly. 

“You made Leslie a Halloween costume,” Shawn repeated. He was still holding the costume in the air, staring at it with big eyes. 

“I did.” 

“Lassie I could kiss you right now.” Lassiter’s flush darkened; he stiffened. He opened his mouth to snap at Shawn, but before he could Shawn turned to him, beaming, clutching the costume to his chest. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Lassie” he said, “and it’s not even technically for me. Leslie’s gonna be so excited!” Shawn bounced in place, his sneakers squeaking on the tile. 

“I hope so,” Lassiter said awkwardly. 

“You’re getting a hug Lassie,” Shawn announced, putting the costume back in the bag and handing it to Gus. He spread his arms out wide and approached Lassiter slowly, like Lassiter was a startled animal. “You don’t get a choice, hug train has already left the station. Hug town, population you.” Lassiter let him wrap his arms around him; Shawn hummed to himself and squeezed him tightly before he let go. “You have no idea how much this means Lassie,” he said quietly. “I know that couldn’t have been cheap, and you obviously put a lot of work into it. Thank you.” 

“It wasn’t difficult,” Lassiter repeated, flustered. Shawn’s breath smelled like those pineapple candies he liked. He was still so close that Lassiter could feel how warm he was. Lassiter hurriedly took a step back, nearly tripping over his chair. “I hope she likes it.” Shawn grinned easily, losing some of that earnestness and falling back into his usual schtick. 

“She’s gonna love it Lassie. You’re the second best pseudo uncle figure, right after Gus.”

“You know that’s right,” Gus said, passing the bag back to Shawn. He looked at Lassiter with something Lassiter couldn’t name in his eyes and nodded. Then he and Shawn left again, leaving behind a vacuum like they always did. Lassiter sank into his desk chair, exhaling slowly. His heart was racing, which was ridiculous. He quickly righted himself when he saw Juliet watching him from her desk, hiding a smile behind an open case file. 

“That was very sweet Carlton,” she said after a moment, closing the file and pretending to busy herself with paperwork. Lassiter clenched his jaw. 

“I suppose it was.” 

“Shawn obviously appreciates it.” She was trying to sound nonchalant; he could see she was doodling flowers on her legal pad. 

“It wasn’t for Shawn,” he said. They both knew it was mostly a lie, but she let it slide, smiling again. 

“Lassie!” Leslie’s voice filled the front hallway of the station around noon the next day. Lassiter looked up from his paperwork to see Leslie stumble around the corner, a soft smile coming to his face. She was wearing her costume, complete with the little bandana and some pirate boots, beaming at him. “Lassie,” she repeated as she trotted up to his desk. She planted her little fists on her hips and struck a pose. 

“Hello Leslie,” he said, his smile turning to a grin. “I take it you like your costume?”

“I love it,” she crowed, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s the bestest thing ever. Just like in my story!” 

“I’m glad you like it.”

“ _ Love _ it,” she corrected, looking at him intensely. 

“I’m glad you love it. I worked very hard on it.” 

“Love in the stitches,” Leslie said, grinning her gap-toothed grin. Lassiter flushed. 

“Yeah,” he murmured. He gently patted her head, making her giggle. He glanced up and saw Shawn leaning against a pillar, watching them. He was smiling that soft, private smile, the one that made Lassiter’s chest feel tight. 

“Lassie’s the bestest.” 

“He sure is kiddo,” Shawn said, straightening and taking a step forward. 

“Daddy,” Leslie crowed, turning her grin on Shawn. She toddled forward and wrapped her arms around his leg. 

“Did you say ‘thank you’ to Lassie?” Leslie gasped, pulling away from Shawn’s leg. She spun around and raced up to Lassiter. 

“Thank you Lassie!” she shouted, before climbing up into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. Lassiter immediately stiffened, but gradually relaxed.   
“Oh,” he said quietly. Leslie pressed her face into his neck, humming quietly. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her; patted her back gently. Shawn raised a hand to cover his mouth but Lassiter could tell he was smiling; beaming. Lassiter flushed again, his ears burning. “You’re welcome Leslie,” he said. 

“You’re very nice,” she said with a nod of finality when she pulled back. Lassiter’s heart leapt. He helped her clamber to the ground and watched her toddle back to Shawn, full of warmth. Shawn was looking at him, something indescribable in his eyes. He smiled and winked at Lassiter before he turned to Leslie. 

“I think uncle Gus has some peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches left, little Lee, but we’ve gotta be quick,” he said. “You know those are his favorites.”

“My favorites too,” Leslie squawked, affronted. She grabbed Shawn’s hand and tugged; he pretended to be comically yanked forward, like she was very strong. Shawn mouthed  _ Thanks, Lassie _ before Leslie dragged him around the corner and they disappeared out the door. 

Lassiter watched them leave; then buried his face in his hands because he couldn’t hide his smile. Leslie was adorable-she reminded Lassiter why he wanted kids. He’d make a hundred costumes if she asked, if he knew it would make her happy. He would do anything to make that little girl smile. 


End file.
